


Is it gay to kiss your best friend?

by hopelessbookgeek



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Absolutely ludicrous amounts of sass, Beach Trip, M/M, Modern AU, Unrequited Crush, York has terrible fashion sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessbookgeek/pseuds/hopelessbookgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not weird for bros to take a three-day beach trip together, right? And if it's cheaper to share a bed rather than rent two, that's just good decision-making, right? North isn't totally in love with his best friend, right? (Wrong.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bros Take Vacations Together, Right?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daddy_Fluff (Agent_Fluff)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Fluff/gifts).



> This is fluffy nonsense.

The phone rang at four in the morning. North picked it up groggily but before he could even manage a hello, York’s chipper voice exploded from it. “ _Beach trip beach trip beach trip!_ ”

“Good morning to you too,” North grumbled. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Time for you to get your ass out of bed. Come on, we have to leave soon!”

“We’re not leaving until six. We agreed.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t packed yet, which is why I’m up so early.” Leave it to York to pack at four a.m. the day of. To be fair it was only a three-day vacation, but still. Four a.m.?

“Why did you have to wake me up, though?”

“I’m excited, North! Beach trip! Bro trip! The beach is the perfect opportunity for people like me!”

North stretched and flipped his bedside lamp on. He wasn’t going to get any more sleep anyway; no use pretending. “What _people_ would that be?”

“People who swing in more directions than a yo-yo, my man.”

North choked. “Is this why you wanted a beach trip? Do I have to see you in a Speedo?”

“North, please. You might _get_ to, if you’re lucky. If you’re very lucky, you’ll see me strutting my stuff in nothing at all.”

“That’s not legal where we’re going. It should be illegal everywhere.”

“And c’mon, man.” He sounded hurt. “Do you really think I needed to use you as an excuse to go to the beach? Just because my Jeep isn’t technically _street legal_?” North could almost see the air quotes around the last two words. “Buddy man, you’re my bro. My dude. My main squeeze. No, scratch that, that’s not what I meant. I will be Broseidon, Lord of the Brocean, and you will be… what’s the Roman one?”

“Breptune, Master of the Seven Breas.” North smiled despite himself. York was a pain in the ass sometimes, but he was sincere about it.

“You’re not doing it right. But anyway. My drier is finished with my towels so I’m gonna haphazardly stuff everything into a backpack.”

“God, please don’t pack like an asshole…”

“Listen, _it’s gonna happen_. Pick me up at six on the dot or your ass is grass.” He hung up without a better goodbye and North sighed. It was gonna be a long three days.

****

When North pulled up outside York’s place at six on the dot, York was sitting on the stoop with sunglasses on and two cups of coffee. He slid into the passenger’s seat and handed one to North. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he said, grinning. “You like my shades?”

“Aviators, nice. You look like you’re trying to be an extra on _Top Gun_. When did you have time to run out and buy coffee?”

“Turns out packing like an asshole has its perks.” He settled his backpack on the floor between his feet and sipped his coffee as North peeled out and headed towards the highway.

“What I’m surprised by is that you walked twice as far to go to the Dunkin Donuts rather than the Starbucks around the corner. Does the Dunkin Donuts have a cute cashier?”

“Hey, I’ve got my daily dose of cuteness right here.” North rolled his eyes. “And besides, I went to college in Boston. Of course I was gonna walk to Dunkins. Hey, can I put on some music?”

“Sure, plug your phone in. Just don’t put on _that_ playlist.”

“Which playlist is _that_ playlist?”

“The one you made comprising entirely of songs with the phrase _New York_ in them. I’ll pull over and kick you out, I’m not kidding.”

“You’re no fun,” York said with a sigh, but he set up an inoffensive indie playlist and kicked his feet up on the dash. “Mind if I take a nap? Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“No kidding. Alright, go ahead. I’ll let you know when we’re close, I know you like seeing us approach our destination. You’re like a kid.”

“I take offense to that.” He dug a hat out of his bag that read ‘ _my eyes are up here_ ’ with an upwards-pointing arrow and pulled the brim low over his eyes.

“Your hat is stupid,” North said, but he was already asleep.

North drove the two hours in silence. He hummed along to York’s playlist when he knew the song, but most of the time he didn’t, so he let his mind wander to the beach. He made fun of York for acting like a kid but he hadn’t been this excited in _years_ ; it had been ages since he’d gone to the beach, and all he remembered of that trip amongst the margarita haze was South drawing dirty pictures on his back with sunscreen and laughing when he had a dick sunburned on his skin.

This time, though, no sisters, no parents, no partners, just him and York. Bro trip indeed. Just two guys on the beach at sundown… North didn’t swing in as many directions as York (no one did), and he’d loved every girlfriend he’d ever had, but York… stupid, loudmouth York, with all the sleeves cut off his shirts and his eighties sunglasses, York and his mismatched eyes– one blue as the sea in a storm, the other smooth as polished glass– well, North wouldn’t deny there was a soft spot there.

When the water was a hazy mist at the horizon, more mirage than anything, he opened his mouth to wake York and then thought better of it, his mouth curling into a smile instead as he gently and carefully slammed his hand on the horn. York woke immediately, flying to a more upright position, hat falling off and glasses askew. “ _Jesus Christ_ , North! You’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

But he was laughing.

****

The room North had booked weeks ago was pretty, a little B&B with a gorgeous view of the sloping beach. “North, no offense, but what compelled you to book a room with only one bed?” York asked, dumping his backpack on the corner table and rummaging through it.

“It was half as cheap as one with two beds, and I’ve known you for ten years.”

“Ah, fair, fair. C’mon, North, get your bathing suit on! Can I bury you in the sand?” He grinned and North rolled his eyes. “I’ll bury you up to your neck and make you look like a mermaid.”

“I’ll bury you all the way and then forget where I buried you, how about that?”

York went into the attached bathroom to change. “Why are you so aversive to fun?” he yelled through the door.

North changed quickly. “Probably because I have a distinct memory of looking at a handful of pictures of Wash passed out on your couch in college, with your testicles draped lovingly over his forehead.”

York laughed. “Okay, fine. I thought you’d forgotten about those, to be fair.”

“So you admit you were going to attempt to recreate that?”

“I admit nothing.” He came out of the bathroom in blue swim trunks pattered with rubber ducks, sunglasses still on. “Give it to me straight, North. Real talk. Sunglasses or no sunglasses?”

“Depends. Do you value your retinas?”

“No, I mean…” He turned away just slightly, closed in on himself so slightly that no one else would have noticed. But North did, and felt bad about teasing him. “I don’t want to get that look again, where I’m flirting with someone and then I take the glasses off and they see…”

_See my eye_ , he didn’t want to say. York had never been ashamed of his scar, and nor should he be, but North could only imagine getting a look of hastily-concealed horror every time he took his sunglasses off. The other option would be to do away with the glasses altogether but how many people might fail to approach him with the scar? It had been so long that North hardly noticed it anymore, and actually liked the asymmetry, and York was tall and muscular and otherwise handsome and friendly; there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to attract anyone he wanted.

North took his sunscreen and towel and crossed the room to stand in front of York, and before he could think better of it, slid the glasses from York’s face and hooked them into the collar of his shirt. “Let ‘em look,” he said softly, and York gazed up at him. York, at six foot one, was not a short man, but North stood four inches taller. “I think the duckie shorts are a lot more likely to scare people away. And besides,” he added, “I think you look very handsome.”

“North?” York said in almost a whisper, not breaking their eye contact.

“Mm?”

“I think this is the part where we kiss.”

North’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to roll his eyes. He couldn’t tell if York was serious and wasn’t going to take the chance, and besides, this was a bro trip, not a couple’s retreat. “I’m gonna need your help getting sunscreen on my back,” he said instead, heading out the door with York trailing after him. “And don’t draw a dick.”

“Man, you ruin _everything_.”


	2. Beach Buddies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less banter-y than the last chapter but gayer. So it evens out.

York decided instantly that his job was to scope out _prime beach real estate_. “Gotta be close to the snack shack,” he explained, “but not too close, in case someone hot is working there. I refuse to be eclipsed in my moment of glory. I want to put my feet in the water.”

“Sure, but if the tide comes up and gets my book wet, I’m going to bodily throw you into the ocean,” North said, not even looking at York. Their moment had still left him a little shaky, so he decided to use his distraction to judge how busy the beach was. Not very, it looked like; it was still early.

“It’s a little early for the manhandling, North, but I’ll be game in about six hours.” There, he went and did it again. Did he used to do that? Just make that many jokes about coming on to North? He must have, right? This was _York_. He flirted his way into free McFlurries at McDonald’s at least twice a month. North shook his head. He must still be tired from his early rising.

They set up a few feet above the tide line, North spreading his towel out carefully, York dropping his in a messy heap into the sand. North clicked his tongue. “You’re gonna sit in a little nest?”

“No, I’m gonna go jump in the water.”

“Can you get my back first?” He handed York the bottle and stripped off his shirt. Scandinavian heritage combined with a mostly indoor lifestyle meant that his skin was pale as fresh snow, and he felt the strange urge to apologize.

“You’re kinda blinding me, dude. You’re lucky I have my sunglasses on.”

“And that you’re already half-blind,” North said without thinking. God, that was rude of him. And after York had already expressed his self-consciousness, like, ten minutes ago.

Luckily York let out his sharp bark of a laugh instead. “So I have more to lose! Here, turn this way a little bit.” He put his hands on North’s shoulders and twisted him slightly.

“Why?”

“I’m gonna see if the sun reflecting off your back will set that umbrella on fire.”

North had to laugh. “Thanks for helping,” he said with a wince as he felt cold lotion being squeezed between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, man, you know I’m not going to let you die of skin cancer. Mostly because I want to die first.”

North snorted. “And why’s that?”

“I know you’d write me a bitchin’ eulogy.”

****

After only about ten minutes in the water, York came back out and settled onto his towel. North, on his stomach reading, looked over at him. “I thought you were going swimming.”

“The aim wasn’t so much swimming as it was getting wet. Now I’m glistening.”

“You look extremely sweaty.” He looked back at the book. “Are you going to sit here until someone approaches you?”

“I’m posting up, man. If they love me, they will come.”

“Do you have anything to do when they don’t?”

“Nah, I’m gonna bother you.”

“Thank God.” He glanced back over at York, sitting on his towel, his gaze focused somewhere on the watery horizon. “You know no one is going to come over if they think we’re together, right? We look like an old married couple.”

“Wrong. I mean, we do, but I’m thinking my charisma will be inescapable. I have a magnetic personality. I’m a South, and that’s why you and I are so close and your sister repels me.”

North rolled his eyes. “You know she doesn’t actually hate you? You could try to be civil with her. It isn’t her fault that she walked in on you in a compromising position, and in her position I would have told everyone too.”

York actually almost blushed. “I specifically chose that broom closet so that no one would have to find us. It’s not my fault she wanted to bang Connie in the same closet.”

“Well, maybe decide not to let Wash finger you at two in the afternoon in a Wendy’s, hm? Did you not learn that you shouldn’t get fingered at Wendy’s?”

“I fucking hate you, North.”

The posting up did, however, work, because it wasn’t fifteen minutes before a curvy brunette came by and struck up a conversation with York. York, ever the charmer, had her smiling and laughing in under a minute, chatting like they were old friends. After maybe ten minutes she invited him back to hang out with her and her friends. York immediately turned to North.

“Do you mind, buddy? Wanna come?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’ll hang out here and keep your stuff from being stolen. Thank you, though.” York recognized the sincerity and saluted him as he went off with the girl, and then it was just North and his book and a mostly empty beach.

With York gone, North found himself missing South. Sure, the sunburned phallus had been embarrassed to try and explain and that memory was painfully fresh, but he hadn’t seen his sister since her and Connie’s wedding eight months ago. Her frequent Instagram updates from New York were all positive, but, well, they’d been all but inseparable growing up. He missed her.

He took a quick picture of the beach and texted it to her with a “ _wish you were here_ ” message. He’d almost send “ _glad you’re not here_ ,” his characteristic sardonic teasing, but something about the warm sun on his skin made him want to be genuine. That seemed to be the theme of the weekend so far.

She sent him a messily-snapped picture of the fringes of Manhattan, obviously taken from a train. “ _Me too_ ,” the message said. “ _Miss you_.”

“You too,” he said aloud.

“Me what?” York’s voice said, and he dropped his book in surprise. Sand slipped in between the pages and for months later, every once in a while a page turn would drop a few grains on his lap.

“Nothing. You’re back already?” He had to squint up at York, the sun shining right behind him.

“Yeah. Found out the girl was seventeen.”

North sucked in a breath. “Damn.”

York nodded. “Her friends invited me to stay anyway, as a friend, but it felt weird. She’s seventeen, y’know? The last thing a seventeen girl needs is to be around a guy more than ten years older than her.”

“ _Ten years?_ ” North said with a laugh.

“I said more than! You’re older than I am, gramps, so cool it.” He plopped back down next to North, closer than before. Sand spilled onto North’s towel but he didn’t say anything. “I think it was karma.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

From here he could only see York’s bad eye, the ragged scar that had turned his iris milky white. Everyone had damage; it was just like York to wear it so visibly. “Well,” he said with a little smile, “this is a bro trip, right? I’m here with you.”

****

It was easy to completely blow a day on the beach, North found, with a long nap and a few good margaritas. By sundown he was just on the edge of tipsy, where the world was soft and York’s company was sweet as honey. York had settled into an equally quiet sort of tipsy, which was unusual; drunken York was a force of nature, a hurricane, both causing thousands of dollars in damages and equally unwelcome in Swanquarter, North Carolina.

They’d moved their seats closer to the water as the beach emptied out and the salt water kissed their feet. “This is the perfect time of day,” York said.

“Why’s that?”

“The world’s quiet, you know? When I was in the army, everything was go-go-go. I mean, there was a shit ton of downtime, but there’s always an edge, like any second disaster could strike. Like being a fireman, y’know? And even when I got discharged for my eye, I never got the chance to appreciate downtime and freedom from stress because I live in the city. Here, now, with you, everything’s a little quieter.”

“It’s beautiful,” North agreed, drawing pictures in the wet sand with his fingertip. The sun was just kissing the horizon and the waters flowed pink and orange in reflection. The whole world seemed to stick in stasis, just as York said, between one breath and another, in the heartbeat between ‘I love’ and ‘you’. Suddenly none of it mattered, not his job or his mortgage or the deepening laugh lines around his eyes. It felt like he would be here forever with York, caught between day and night, with his heart in his throat.

When York’s hand slid over his and clutched it, he said nothing, for fear that would break the spell. So he sat and watched the way the waves settled into a comfortable rhythm, and he was at peace.


	3. Is It Gay to Kiss Your Best Friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's very gay.

North woke up with an arm wound around his waist.

He didn’t think much of it at first, it was early, he was still half-asleep, and the arm was warm. He’d always been a physical person. He even burrowed back against the arm’s owner, comfortable in the warmth of the room, but then he felt a solid wall of hard muscle, and he realized exactly who it was who was cuddling up to him.

A more dignified person might have either accepted it or carefully extracted himself, but North had never been particularly dignified, so he froze with his face beet-red and tried to work out if York would be offended if he bolted. When he shifted, the arm tightened around his middle, a friendly seatbelt. “York,” he whispered. “ _York._ ”

“Mm? Huh? What?”

“You’re, uh. You’re snuggling me.”

He couldn’t see York, since he was facing away from him, but he could damn near feel his grin in the air. “Warm,” York sighed, and only burrowed closer.

North did pull away now that York was awake, still blushing. “Cuddling can resume when you’ve lost your morning wood. There are certain aspects of you I would be happy to be less intimate with.”

“Mm, listen, don’t be ashamed. We can’t all be packing like this.”

North’s usual sharp tongue abandoned him. Dick jokes in the abstract were one thing; they became a lot more uncomfortable when the object of the joke was very close to literally staring you in the face. He shut himself in the bathroom instead and splashed his face with cool water.

It wasn’t four seconds before York, typically a lazy riser, knocked on the door. “North? I was just kidding. I’m sure your dick is fine. Great, even.”

Alright, North had to laugh at that. “I don’t need your reassurance for that.”

“Okay. But if you want it, I’m open to it. Just buy me dinner first.”

“If I buy you dinner, it will not be for services rendered. And in addition, and I want to make this clear, it is too early in the morning to start being gay.”

“Wrong. There is no wrong time to start being gay. You heteros are so uptight.”

North opened the door and York was leaning against the frame, arms crossed, smiling. “I’m not even heterosexual,” he muttered, stepping aside to let York into the bathroom. York, however, froze.

“No? Really?”

“I’m sorry if my non-heterosexuality is offensive to you.”

“No, I just…” York rubbed the back of his head. “Didn’t know. This recent?”

“No.”

“You never told me, man!”

North shrugged. “What does it matter? I’ve never dated a man. If I do, I’ll be sure to send out the messenger pigeons. Congratulations, you are officially the first and only person I have come out to. You no longer have any straight friends.”

York grinned. “I’ll buy the celebratory shots.”

****

York chattered animatedly all the way down to the beach. “So then he said ‘liquor? I don’t even know ‘er!’ Ha ha, wait, I got another one–”

“A malevolent deity put you in this world solely to punish me.” North shot a glance at York. He had his aviators hanging from the neck of his ‘Sun’s Out, Guns Out’ tank and wore a hat that said ‘in dog years I’m gay.’ It was absolutely awful, but the only alternative he would accept was an even worse hat that said ‘if you’re reading this, I’m gay.’ Atrocious. “York, can I ask a question to distract you from telling another awful joke?”

“Go right ahead, buddy.”

“Why– don’t take offense, but why is every item of clothing you own just hideous?”

York laughed. “I like to have fun! You should try it. I think I have an ‘I Heart NY’ shirt somewhere–”

“Oh, nice. Do you want me to burn it for you?”

York laughed again. “North, can I just say, I’m really glad we planned this trip. It’s really nice to hang out with you like this.”

All of his instincts told him to deflect, but something about York’s goofy, genuine smile made him tamp it down. “I’m glad to be here too. I think we needed this.” They spread out the towels a good distance from the shore. As it was Saturday, the beach was busier than before, but they still got a good spot maybe fifty feet from the snack shack.

“How long’s it been since we got to do something like this? Years, right?”

“Let me think. Was it Memorial Day, when we went to Six Flags?”

“Ha! You got so sunburned, North!”

“Mm-hm, and you caught salmonella from the flume ride, so who really lost that day?”

York grimaced. “Don’t remind me. Four years later I still get nightmares. This beach trip is going much better so far. For example, I haven’t shit myself yet.”

“Good,” North said. “I’m not dealing with that. I’m also not looking for a repeat of that day’s horrible red lobster burn, so if you would do me the service of putting sunscreen on my back, I would very much appreciate that.”

“Hey, no problem, man.” He took the sunscreen from North and made him turn around. “I’m so glad I tan instead of burn.”

“Didn’t ask.”

York chuckled, squeezed a dollop of lotion onto his palm. He started working it into North’s skin and North flushed, turning redder the lower York’s hands wandered. He was annoyed with himself for being embarrassed. This was _York_. They’d been through a lot of nonsense together, admittedly fully clothed, but still. There was nothing about York’s warm, callused hands rubbing his lower back that should make him feel this way.

When he was done, York handed the bottle back to North and settled down on his towel, hands behind his head and eyes closed. “I’m digging this sunshine,” he said, kicking his sandals off and burying his toes in the sand. “I feel like I’ve been cold my entire life.”

“You keep your apartment turned to fifty-eight. No wonder you’re always cold.”

“Listen, some of us have to pay for our heat. Besides, we’re not all used to dealing with Russian winters.”

North threw his hands in the air. “I’ve never been to Russia! I’m from Maryland!”

But York wasn’t listening anymore.

****

At the end of the day, North was ready to grab some dinner and hang out in their room watching a movie (the eternal struggle between North’s favorite, spy thrillers, and the only movie York ever wanted to watch, _Homeward Bound II: Lost in San Francisco_ ), but York convinced him to stay and watch the sunset again.

York did, in fact, pick up shots (the snack shack guy pulled out his personal stash of whiskey in exchange for a crumpled twenty), and he and North each knocked back about four as the sun went down. The beach had mostly emptied, save for a young dad playing with his kids in the gentle surf and a couple starting a probably illegal bonfire way down by the rocks.

“Mr. Snack Shack, do you have a radio?” York asked, his words only barely beginning to slur. This was tipsy York, and another shot would push him into loud obnoxious asshole mode. North hoped that he would choose to stay in that sweet spot.

“Yeah, somewhere.” The snack shack guy pulled up a dusty, bulky boombox from a bottom shelf and York swiveled through the channels until he found the country station. For a city boy, he had a horrible fascination with country music. But then, York could probably give North shit for his own wildly varied, eclectic taste in music.

The song playing wasn’t that bad, actually, something slow and soft and sensual. York grinned, blue eye snapping, and held out his hand. “Wanna dance?”

Hey, why not? He took the outstretched hand and York’s other hand settled on his hip. “I bet you know this song, don’t you?”

“Mm-hm. It’s called ‘Sangria’. Good song. Sangria itself sucks, though.”

“You think?”

“Too sweet. I’m a manly man.”

North snorted, but didn’t make a rude comment. York was looking at him very intently. “You ever danced on the beach before?” he said softly.

“Never,” York replied, just as soft. “But I like it.”

“Me too.” North’s heartbeat felt like it was in synch with the roll of the ocean, the sand making his steps unsteady, making him want to keep close to York.

“You know, I’m really happy you felt comfortable enough to come out to me this morning.” York glanced away. “It makes a lot of things makes a lot more sense.”

“Hm? What things?”

“You– Wash said the way you look at me…”

“How do I look at you?” he asked.

“Like you’re in love with me.” North knew York would never have said this sober, and even tipsy clearly struggled with whether he should say it. “I never wanted to say anything before. I didn’t want to come off predatory, like– like you’d think I was coming on to you.”

“You were, though,” North realized. He wasn’t imagining things after all.

“I was,” York admitted. “But you never seemed to notice. I kept it up because it just became part of our banter, and I didn’t want to make it look suspicious. I’ve– I’ve kind of wanted to tell you how I feel for years.”

“And how– how do you feel?” Oh, thank God, he wasn’t imagining it. He hadn’t realized he was looking at York like that. He hadn’t even really realized that’s how he felt about York. But, God, laid out here like that…

“C’mon, man, isn’t it obvious?”

North used the hand not holding York’s to touch his cheek, tilt his chin so that York’s good eye could meet one of his. It was uncharacteristic of York to be this shy, which meant he must be serious. “It is now,” he murmured, “but I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m in love with you, North.”

There, _there_ it was, the words North hadn’t known he desperately needed to hear, a lifeline to a man who didn’t know he was drowning until he tasted clean air. “I love you too.”

York sucked in a breath. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh, thank God.” From how close they were dancing, North could feel him trembling with relief. “Can I kiss you? I’ve been dying to kiss you.”

North grinned and leaned in and York tilted his head just slightly to the side, and their hands were still entwined, and York tasted like whiskey and salt. He was a better kisser than North, who tried clumsily to kiss back half as well, but there was something electric and _right_ between them anyway.

North pulled away first and this time he was the one trembling, just a bit, not that he’d admit it. York’s kiss had hit him down to his toes, but mostly it was something less tangible, something more abstract. Maybe it was how much he wanted this hitting him hard, all at once.

York, for his part, looked relaxed and blissful. “I could kiss you all night and still not have kissed you enough,” he breathed, squeezing North’s hand. “I– I’ve wanted this for so long…”

“Then why don’t we make up for lost time?”

York grinned, and they moved in again.


End file.
